Set the Fire to the Third Bar
by The End's Envoy
Summary: Cloud suffers from the loss of Zack, but is not completely alone.


Hej hej.

Just something I wrote quickly. I am thinking of sticking to one-shots from now on as anything longer usually turns out A) Really bad, B) I end up hating it or C) Lack of response (I'm funny with things like that).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or anything else. I'm too poor to even afford a new windscreen for my car.

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SET THE FIRE TO THE THIRD BAR

I lay still, the protective blanket of darkness surrounds me, hiding me from anyone and anything. A cold breeze blows through my open window. It ruffles my hair and as I shiver, I am reminded of the lack of warmth behind me.

I had never liked the darkness...but now, it was almost comforting in the way it shrouded me from view,

I shuffle quietly and pull the moth-eaten duvet up closer to my chin, and there is the empty feeling of nothing behind me, as I have grown accustomed to the familiar movement of a body behind me, shifting until we fit together perfectly again, strong arms wrapped around my waist.

There is no familar rhythmic exhale of breath. The warmth spilling over my shoulder and flooding my collarbones, only to then fill my entire body with a sweet warmth. I sought protection from it, and when it didn't happen, I began to panic. I feel completely lost and I nothing to attach myself to in an attempt to relax.

I was found in the loving embrace of my lover. I felt wanted, loved. Now, there is nothing but the unforgivingly cold and insensate sheets behind me.

My eyes water and I want, need, crave his presence. He is not here, and I find myself craving the loving familiarity of his voice, his touch, his scent.

I need things to back as to how they once were.

He is gone, physically. But he is still within me, and as much as I need to feel him with me, the cold, cruel reminder of his non-existance is brought back to me, and I tense. The pain floods my entire body and it leaves me in the cold, bleak arms of despair, claws ready to peel my skin back and reveal the fear and pain that is festering beneath my white flesh.

The part of him that has been burned into my memory floats up to the surface, and a tear runs cold down my cheek. His large hands. His long, auburn hair. The way he was so gentle and caring, kissing me with such tender passion, making love to me with such care and love I thought my heart would explode.

These memories cannot ever be ridden from me. Not without ripping it out and shredding it slowly, only to leave them tainted, my body lying still and my blood running cold.

I always felt so safe and secure in the truthful knowledge that we always had each other. We always had our love, our bond. We could never be taken away from each other without putting up a fight. We would always be together.

I had complete faith in our love. It's strength and purity. We always relied on it to help us get through any obstacle in life, wether it be physical or mental. We were being tested time and time again, but I never doubted that our love would fail. I always stuck to the belief that we would make it out on the other side together. We may be bearing the scars of our trouble, but we were stronger together because of it. Our love ran deeper than any words could describe

Then it all failed.

It was cold in Midgar. I faintly remember Zack talking to me, asking about what I was going to once we got home. He picked me up and left, and I reached out my hand as he left.

I didn't know what would be the last time I'd ever see him.

I don't know anything anymore. I don't know what we're going to do. I don't know what I'm going to do. I am so lost without him. I wish you were here, Zack. You'd know what to do.

I remember the first time we met. He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I fell in love that day, and I fell hard. Like doing a bunjee jump with cement blocks tied around me.

I remember the night I was at a pub with a few Cadet friends and I was attacked by some man. Genesis saw the commotion and broke the man's leg and carried my bloodied and bruised body home, and I still remember the distinct feeling of lightness and calm wash over me as I was gently transferred from one man to another.

I am angry. Angry and scared. Angry at fate for stealing my boyfriend away from me, and scared because I have no-one to turn to when I need comfort. The sound of the bus windows smashing still rings in my ears. It cuts through my nerves and denfensive barriers. Ugly voices scream at me, voices that are impossible to reason with. A violence rears within me. A sprialling, erupting fury that I will soon lose control of. It hits me harder than a baseball bat and it hurts more than Masamune ever could. I watch helplessly as it cuts through cherished flesh and blood, like a short film for my eyes only, played to me every night when I am left alone to my thoughts.

I want to talk. I want to rid the thoughts trapped in their endless cycle. I want to talk, the lost words of regret, of anger, of hurt whip through me like a storm but there is no release, no respite. They mix with the need, the longing, the worry, the uncertainty, the love that has lost it's way, lost it's source, it's destination. It builds until my body can take the pressure no more and my solitary form tenses with the strain. Feelings form on the surface in the shape of tears and I squeeze my eyes tighter shut, but there can be no stemming the tears that are now falling, burning my cold cheeks.

And I am still here, under the blanket of darkness. It no longer offers the protectiveness that I earlier described. It makes me feel weak, vulnerable. I feel exposed like a nerve ending, and I hate it.

The sob that rips it way out of my mouth burns like fire, and I wince in pain.

And suddenly, a wave of anger towards Zack rises up within me. I feel so angry. He left me. He left without saying goodbye. He never warned me. But how could he? He never knew that he would die underneath a bus on a cold, rainy Midgar night.

He promised he'd never leave me!

My anger quickly dissipates, and I have an overbearing urge to reach out and touch him, to smooth the deep lines of worry - worry for me - from his beautiful face, to wrap my arms around his waist and hold him close as my head rests on his chest, it's contours angled only for us and our perfect fit. The need is so strong it pulls at every nerve ending in my body, serving only to quicken the pace in my frantic heart.

Only for me to remember that he is no longer here.

I imagine him behind me, his chest against my back. I imagine him behind me, as he had lie beside me, night after night after night. For a moment the strength of the image, of the memory, of the feelings it generates fools some desperate part of me that maybe it could be real, that it is real if I reached out...

I open my eyes and turn around as if expecting to find some imprint of him in the side of the bed where he should be. His presence so strong, so real, but there is nothing. Instinctively I roll over onto him, where he should be, and inhale his calming scent, but it is gone. Only the materialistic smell of linen and soap greets my senses, it's essence driving any last pathetic notion that he is still here out of me, until there is nothing but the emptiness. And it's not ok, nothing will ever be ok. We are not together and it's feels so completely and utterly wrong. I struggle breathe. My muscles tense. My heart and soul and body combined ache as they call out to him. Nothing. There is nothing in reply.

I scream. The cry is mournful, sick. It's not in English, and it sounds angrier in Nibel. The sobs are now falling freely from deep within me, tearing from my throat.

My bedroom door creaks open and I whip round suddenly, hoping that it's him. Home from the hospital, alive and well, ready to be with me.

But I cannot resist the instinct to hide beneath my wing, which curls around me.

The figure is tall and broad, like Zack and the bed sinks under his weight. My wing is gently peeled away from around my body, and strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me up, and I grab onto the figure's shoulder, too weak to fight back.

"Zack?"

My voice comes out weak, thin, defeated.

It sickens me.

"No." The figure mumbled back. "Leon"

I whimper something in Nibel, and my hands fist in the soft fabric of Leon's vest, and I feel arms tighten around me, wary of my quivering wing and one hand moved up to cradle the back of my head.

"You'll be fine, Cloud." He whispers. "We'll be fine."

I believe him.

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End file.
